The strange smell suddenly brought Xie Qihan back to his scattered consciousness. He struggled to open his eyes, and what he saw was a pale ceiling, and the regular ticking sound of instruments unique to the hospital could be heard in his ears. He had a splitting headache, as if he had been hit repeatedly by a heavy hammer, and the suffocating feeling in his chest had not yet dissipated. It was the residual warmth of despair choked by the thick smoke before death.
